


Swallow

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Dentist John, Dentist!AU, M/M, PWP, Patient Sherlock, Pure Crack, Sloppy Blow Job, blame my hot dentist and my best friend, don't try this at your dentist's office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs to get a root canal. The procedure leading up to it goes differently than he thought it would. He's incredibly happy with the way things turned out. </p><p>John's a hot dentist. He gets his cock sucked. Sloppily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



Sherlock was just as meticulous with oral hygiene as he was with the rest of his body. He flossed twice a day and brushed in small circles exactly as his dentist had suggested. That was why, when the dentist told him there was slight reabsorption below the surface on one of his teeth he snorted and told her to take another X-Ray. When she did and there was still a dark spot below the gum he slumped into his seat as she explained he would have to see a specialist.

"It's probably due to orthodontics," she explained, pausing for a moment as if something had just occurred to her. "Unless there was trauma. Have you been hit in the face recently?"

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling and ran through the last year of chases and punches and dark alley brawls. Two. There were two instances when he'd been punched in the face. He scowled and admitted it was a possibility.

_____

Sherlock found himself, three days later, sitting in a disturbingly cheery room across town, waiting to be seen by some doctor who was very much not his own and who he very much did not want to see. As far as he was concerned, the waiting room in a building where root canals are performed should be somber if anything, and not bright and 'airy'. He wasn't there to pick out pastel clothing for a child, he was there to have some barbarian cut into his mouth.

"Mr Holmes?" the woman who had taken his information said from behind the small divider.

Sherlock stood and walked through the door into the back. He frowned at the dental assistant and sat in the chair he was directed to with a huff. The man rolled his eyes to the receptionist behind Sherlock's back and clipped a piece of paper around his neck for when they did their procedure.

He patted Sherlock stiffly on the shoulder before leaving again. "The doctor will be in shortly, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock crossed his arms and closed his eyes, fingers twitching anxiously. He didn't notice when the dentist walked up and took his seat across from him.

"It looks like you've got some reabsorption," the man said, opening Sherlock's chart and flipping through the pages. "The problem with re-"

"I know what reabsorption is!" Sherlock spat. "I'm hardly an idiot. Now if you could..."

Sherlock trailed off as he opened his eyes to see the doctor. The man was compact and slightly tanned. His hair was golden and his eyes a dark blue that could have been mistaken for brown from across the room. There was nothing particularly exciting about him but Sherlock was enraptured nonetheless.

The doctor smiled slowly and held his hand out, enjoying how quickly the pace of the conversation had changed. "I'm Doctor Watson."

"S-Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied, taking the man's hand. "What-what's your first name?"

"John," Dr Watson said, smiling wider and then licking his lips.

"John Watson," Sherlock murmured, mouth quirking on one side and hand tightening. He turned the dentist's hand and looked at his wrist carefully. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"A-Afghanistan," John sputtered, pulling his hand away. 

"Welcome back, Doctor," Sherlock said, unblinking.

John's mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he shut it again and looked back down to the chart. "I'd, uh, like to take some X-Rays of my own if you don't mind."

"Whatever you need, Doctor," Sherlock replied, standing and following the man into the second room.

The dental hygienist bent over and whispered to the receptionist. Dr Watson didn't usually do X-Rays himself. Doctor Watson only did X-Rays when he wanted to sleep with the patient. They agreed that this appointment would be an interesting one to watch.

"Step up to the line and rest your chin here," John said, gesturing. "Good. Good, now hold here. Both hands. Beautiful."

Sherlock did as he was told, breath hitching as John adjusted the machine and rested a hand on his lower back. John lifted a protective sheet and rested it over Sherlock's shoulders, smoothing it down more than he really needed to. Sherlock let his eyes slip closed as John leaned in to whisper.

"Stay completely still, now. Don't even breathe. You're doing well."

Sherlock stayed as still as possible while the machine worked and then followed John back to the examination room.

"Have a seat," John said, sitting down as well and crossing his legs. "The plan I'm drawing up will get us on our way to what I believe is the best outcome. A root canal seems to be in the cards for you, I'm afraid. I'll make it as painless as possible."

"Will I get a reward if I don't complain?" Sherlock asked, watching John as he went over the new X-Rays on the small computer screen.

"We'll see," John replied smoothly. "Only my best patients get rewards."

Sherlock sat a bit straighter as his cheeks coloured. What on earth was going on? He was meant to be making the doctor flustered, not the other way around. He'd done this sort of thing before, of course, but it had always been with him in charge. Hell, just last month the washing machine repair man had given him a healthy reward just for keeping him company. Now he was blushing and Dr Watson was seemingly unaffected. Interested, yes, but unaffected.

The dental assistant came back in while John explained what they would do during this appointment. They would go in and give Sherlock a filling through the back of his tooth. The assistant put a rubber stick into Sherlock's mouth to hold back his tongue so it would be safe and John picked up a syringe, leaning forward and refusing to meet Sherlock's eyes. He looked instead where he should. Blast.

"You'll feel a little prick," John said.

'If I'm lucky,' Sherlock thought, 'it won't be little.'

"How's that?" John asked, waiting for the hum and then carrying on. "Another prick. And one more."

'More than I'm accustomed to,' Sherlock thought, trying not to laugh.

"I'm going to look around now," John said, leaning in and taking out a metal probe. "You'll feel some pressure, but I hope no discomfort."

'Please, yes,' Sherlock thought, 'do your worst.'

It was actually a little off putting how much he was turned on by the man. He wasn't meant to be anything but apprehensive with sharp objects in the vicinity of so much soft tissue but all he could think of was what was under the unassuming clothes the doctor was wearing. 

John went about doing the filling, making sure his patient was comfortable and not asking for many verbal replies, and was soon sitting back as he flushed Sherlock's mouth. 

After the second flush he sat forward. "Would you like suction?"

Sherlock made a show of swallowing and used the paper bib-thing to wipe the edges of his mouth, locking eyes with John. "I prefer to swallow."

John raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. He nodded to his assistant and the other man stood and left the room.

"You'll be numb for a while. Don't worry about that. Have you got any feeling in your bottom lip?" John asked, running his thumb gently over it.

Sherlock attempted to take the thumb between his lips and did so quite clumsily, groaning in disappointment at himself and making John grin.

"Won't be able to get any good suction for a while, I'm afraid," John said.

"Suction isn't everything," Sherlock replied, pouting.

John sat back and crossed his arms. "Is that so?"

"Perhaps I could show you," Sherlock insisted, looking up through his eyelashes.

"You really do come on strong, don't you?" John asked.

"I could say the same about you," Sherlock replied, eyebrow raised in challenge.

John stood and stuck his head out the door, pulling on a pair of fresh gloves in a way that seemed a bit erotic to Sherlock. "The patient is feeling a bit uneasy. I'll see to him for the next half hour. You can take a break."

"Thank you, Doctor," the receptionist chimed.

John closed the door and turned around, chewing his lip and looking Sherlock up and down. "You were going to show me something."

Sherlock tossed the paper bib aside and went to his knees in front of the doctor, fingers already working his belt buckle.

"Jesus," John sighed. "Eager, you are."

Sherlock grunted and unbuttoned John's trousers, undid his zip, and pulled them down to his thighs. He smiled, a bit lopsided as it was, as John's thick cock sprung free and seemed to grow thicker under his gaze. 

He gripped the base and licked up the length of it slowly, eyes on John as he took the tip into his mouth, head tilted to the side. John ran his fingers into his hair and he let his eyes fall closed and tried to suck.

John had been right. Suction wasn't an option on the left side of his mouth. 

Sherlock whined and John chuckled, pulling his hair gently and moving his hips forward a little. It was just a small sway but Sherlock got the point, letting his lips relax and taking more of the doctor's cock into his mouth.

"Mmm, you're doing well," John said, stroking Sherlock's neck with his free hand as the other scratched at Sherlock's scalp.

Sherlock hummed and realised he was starting to drool, the friction reducing as saliva pooled in his mouth and covered his chin.

"God, that's gorgeous," John said, rocking his hips more as Sherlock started to bob his head in earnest.

It was sloppy, Sherlock knew that, but the way John was making noise have him the impression it was hitting the mark. He let his hand drop down to undo his trousers and John pulled on his hair. He barely got the zip down before John pulled again.

"Save that for my hand," he said, gripping Sherlock's chin, fingers slipping, and thrusting forward.

Sherlock whimpered and reached up to roll John's thick bollocks in his hand. It made John hiss and Sherlock pulled them gently as he let the man push against the back of his throat.

"Perfect, Christ, that's it," John murmured, pushing Sherlock's fringe off his sweating forehead. "Look at you. You're just a mess, aren't you? Hmm? All sticky. Such a mess. Perfect."

Sherlock pressed a finger to John's perineum and felt his prick twitch, he made an educated guess and rubbed hard. John growled and started to come into his mouth, hand tensing and then loosening in his hair. Sherlock sucked it all down and rolled his bollocks in his palm until John leaned against the door and let go of his hair.

"Get up here, you magnificent thing," John said.

Sherlock struggled to his feet and kissed John roughly, choking on his breath as the man reached into his trousers and started stroking him. He shuddered and rested his upper body against the man.

"You wanted your reward, yeah?" John asked. "Wanted to be rewarded for being such a good patient. Such a very good patient."

Sherlock nodded and rolled his hips as John tightened his grip and focused on the head.

"Here it is, here it is," John said, reached his other hand up to run it through the saliva on Sherlock's chin and neck before pressing his finger between Sherlock's arsecheeks and pressing against his hole.

Sherlock's arse clenched and he grunted and started to come, John's fingertip slipping into him. 

John kissed his cheek and let him rest against the wall as he removed his gloves and brought over a wet cloth. "Perfect. That's it."

Sherlock nodded and let John clean him up and zipped him back into his trousers. When he finally opened his eyes John was smiling at him.

"You'll have some pain. I want you to take three paracetamol every four hours for the next two days," John said, hands slipping into his pockets. "For supper you should stay with cool, soft foods. Yogurt, applesauce, cottage cheese. Have any of those in?"

"No," Sherlock replied, feeling shocked at how clinical things suddenly were, no matter how soft John's voice was.

"Well," John said, letting the word draw out, "I could come by tonight with a care package. If you'd like."

Sherlock glanced up from the floor with a puzzled look. "You want to bring me cottage cheese?"

"And yogurt," John replied. 

"Tonight?" Sherlock sputtered, thinking about how he needed to get home THAT SECOND to start cleaning.

"As I said," John said, "if you'd like."

"I would...like...that," Sherlock said, mind racing.

"Alright," John said, relaxing minutely. "See you around seven."

Sherlock nodded and left, bumping into the receptionist on the way out. John simply smiled at his back as he retreated.


End file.
